Just not enough boxes

I've inexplicably been battling my cat's attempts to play soccer with his poop again.

Actually, there is an explanation. My apartment's a shambles. Nothing is right. He's pissed off at me cuz I've messed up his shit (so he's getting back by messing up my shit with his [literal] shit). Because I'm moving. Again. For the fourth time in 3 years.

And I'm really disappointed, because I'd made a promise to myself that I would be contracing the services of professional movers this time. However, despite the fact that I make exponentially more money than I did the last time I moved, I can't afford a moving service.

So what am I doing?

• Stealing boxes from the grocery store. At 27.
  
• Using an empty wine case from the liquor store to take my cans of hard cider home. All two of them.
  
• Buying Wal-Mart out of their cloth bags at $1.47 a piece.
  
• Seriously contemplating walking my crappy couch down the street to the Sally Ann because I don't have the means to drive it there. Or stealing a grocery cart for same. A la circa May 1st in any university town. Unless of course, I strap it to the roof my Yaris. Hmmm...I might have an idea there, actually.
• Writing totally extraneous blog posts to avoid putting things into my stolen boxes and cheap cloth bags.

I have a week until the big move and it's nearly impossible to put a foot on the floor without stepping on my junk.

BUT

I have high hopes for my new place. I fully intend to do a thorough inventory of my chattles and dispose of any that I really don't need. And THIS time, I'll decorate. You know, take some pride in my surroundings. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Why do I sound like a drug-addict inearnestly swearing to quit...next week?